Create. Hope. Rising.
When I was 10 years old, I stood on the edge of the high dive at Reed park, my toes curled around the end of the plank.
Terrified. To. Dive. In.
I had gone up and down the ladder a couple of times, making everyone clear the way, before the life guard blew his whistle.
The water or cement.
I was ready. I had dreamed, I had schemed, I had watched the older kids dive. I had taken lessons and I had practiced from the side of the pool.
From fearful panic to calm, I threw my arms over my head, bent forward and leaned into the air.
Right into that cool blue, beautiful water. It was exquisite full body pleasure. Alive. Fully alive.
Today, I am standing on the edge of a new kind of high dive.
As a creative life coach I discovered that merging my glass art with coaching was a powerful way to make a pathway to change. As I worked with clients and groups of all ages in my office and studio, in their homes, in community centers what became clear was that accessing the right brain, which is designed to activate joy and inspiration was a perfect combination with left brain logical thinking.
So, I took that seed of an idea and began to develop a way to share this with other coaches.
Right this minute, I’m in Phoenix at a Martha Beck Summit of coaches, and I’ve just registered for four days of learning and growing. My Creativity Brain Kit is ready to share with 325 talented and varied coaches from all over the world in the marketplace three times during the next three days.
I’ve been inspired and frustrated, working and learning, failing and starting all over again, which is part of the gig. It has taken more hours than I’m able to count. All day, and everyday for months on end has turned into a grateful journey from dream to physical reality.
And I’ve gotten help from all corners. My soul mate Jim has always believed I could swim the distance, even when I can’t see the shore. His confidence and love keep me warm inside day and night. My kids and stepkids, Chris, Kelly, Dave, Kara, Matt, Megan and Matt have listened and supported me. My friends have taken frantic calls, bounced ideas, and I still can’t believe I’m so lucky to call them my dearest, thanks to Shan Goshorn, Kim Doner, Victoria Hoge, Shawn Wilson and Teresa Miller.
A special thanks to Rose McCracken, who has gently led me from fear of technology to posting this message today. She did all the heavy lifting, along with Jim, to make what has always stopped me cold become something I am doing with pleasure and ease. She did it so calmly I forgot to listen to my chattering teeth. They know to let the techie details out of explaining how to make it work for me. Patty Hudson has kept me on task, glued and folded, figured out the detals and been not only a partner in business but a creative sounding board. Patty can do everything and I’m in awe of her.
I’ve used all I’ve learned from Martha Beck, master coaches and their books I devour. I’ve been coached by some of the best. Sarah Yost and her Shiny Object School turned an ADD chick into a step-by-step woman. Jenny Shih offered sound advice. I’ve been touched and helped by coaching from Caitlin Way, and buddies Suzan Hirsch, Kiersten Roberts Macreery. A special thanks to Tulsa Kids for letting me work with their readers and Betty Casey for all she gives back to our community.
I also have learned so much and want to thank some of the bravest souls I’ve ever met, the people I have coached. They have been willing to open up and dig in to make changes in their lives. It has been an honor to be in the presence of such blooming.
One of my favorite quotes was written by Barbara Kingsolver in Animal Dreams, “The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance, but live right in it, under its roof.”
I feel like I have found shelter. And I’m living under its roof.
I’m ready to raise my arms and lean into the next few days with my heart open wide.
Alive inside that hope.
I’m here for you too, as you seek your own warm waters.